


Being Human: Part II

by Filmsterr



Series: Being Human [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Holding Hands, Human Castiel, Hunting, Impala, M/M, Road Trips, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 19:58:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8503384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filmsterr/pseuds/Filmsterr
Summary: Castiel continues to learn the facets of human behavior, particularly the many nuances of body language (and "personal space").





	

Dean has been acting very strange, of late.  
  
He has been particularly anxious of the "personal space” he keeps in my presence, though I notice he has no problem hovering over Sam’s shoulder, or sitting beside Kevin on the couch. I have no idea why it is me alone that he cannot stand to be in close physical proximity with.  
  
In fact, I had been under the impression that our relationship- Dean’s and mine, that is- had grown to reach a deeper level of profundity since I became human some weeks ago.  
  
Perhaps I was wrong.  
  
I have started training to be a hunter in my own right, under the guidance of the Winchesters. Sam is teaching me how to hone my researching technique without the help of my grace (which, of course, takes much longer to produce any results and is certainly wearing on my newfound patience…)  
  
Dean has taken charge of practicing physical combat, something I had actually been enjoying more than most things over the past few weeks. In fact, personal space did not seem to bother him at all during our training sessions. We had many prolonged moments of skin-to-skin contact, and Dean never complained to me.  
  
Human behavior will never cease to perplex me.  
  
We are heading out for another hunt now. All signs point to a wraith sighting at a university in Draper, Utah. It will just be Dean and I on this next hunt: Sam injured his ankle on an excursion last week, and (since I cannot heal it for him) he needs to rest.  
  
I think that this may be a good development. Not Sam’s injury, of course— but the long car ride with Dean will give us a chance to reconnect. Perhaps he feels I have not been giving him enough attention. This is a common theme of the human relationships on the television programs I watch.  
  
We meet at the Impala to prepare for the journey. I offer to drive the first leg, if Dean would like the opportunity to relax. Dean raises his eyebrows at me and climbs into the driver's seat.  
  
I love long cars rides. When I had my grace, I found them to be inefficient and claustrophobic. Now… well, there is something to be said for watching the world pass by slowly. Having more time to take in the glory of my father’s creations. I open the window and breathe deeply, absorbing the pollen and the scent of corn husks. Every so often, I can see Dean glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.  
  
He is playing music from the cassette collection.  Anticipating this, I have come prepared. I wait for a song I recognize before I speak.  
  
“Ahh. Led Zeppelin.”  
  
Dean glances sideways at me again. “Uh. Yep.”  
  
"Founded in 1968 in London, England. Members included Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Paul Jones, and John Bonham. The original name of the band was the Yardbirds. The band released nine studio albums, and—“  
  
“Cas.”  
  
I turn to him, widening my eyes.  
  
“What did you _become_  Google or somethin’?” he asks, and the sarcasm is very clear.  
  
I simply shrug my shoulders and tell him, “I am making conversation about the music you enjoy. It’s a common avenue for bonding among humans.”  
  
I watch Dean’s fingers grip tighter on the steering wheel. “Yeah. Well, rattling off a Wikipedia article ain’t exactly making conversation.”  
  
“Oh. My apologies.” I turn my face back toward the window.  
  
It’s discouraging for a moment, but luckily, I have a Plan B. I wait a few moments and observe as we pass by a large sign reading _Welcome to Colorful Colorado_. Then I look at Dean once more and say, "I am feeling hungry. Perhaps we could stop soon for some pie.”  
  
Dean starts to give me another strange look, but then he stops. “Yeah,” he says, “Pie sounds good.”  
  
We do stop, at a diner Dean says he has been to before that has good burgers. He orders one with a slice of apple pie, and I tell the waitress I will have the same. She smiles at us and says that we are “awful cute”. I thank her as she walks away. Dean opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it just as quickly.  
  
When we are back on the road, Dean changes the tape over to Black Sabbath. I do not try to initiate conversation about this band. After, though, he lets his hand drop onto the seat, resting to his right and my left. My eyes fall upon it, and I cannot make them move.  
  
It is rather close to my own hand. Dean seems to be reneging on his previous wariness about physical proximity.  
  
I leave my own hand there, but return to focusing on the goings-on outside of the car. We have quite a few hours to go until we arrive at our destination. I wonder what the mountains of Utah will look like with mortal eyes.  
  
As I am pondering the beauties that lie beyond my eyes, I feel a warm pressure on my left hand. Just lightly brushing over the smallest finger, the familiar sensation of human skin on human skin. I smile inwardly and breathe in deep the scent of the air that whirls around me. 


End file.
